


Lack of Understanding

by Princex_N



Series: Autistic!Homestuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe, Asperger Syndrome, Autistic!Dirk, Autistic!Jake, Gen, Neurodiversity, Sensory Overload, Stimming, implied Autistic!Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2302562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princex_N/pseuds/Princex_N
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've been staring at the papers in front of you for about an hour and a half, and you're starting to get pissed. </p><p>No, scratch that, you've been pissed for about an hour now, but you're finally starting to lose your patience. Because you aren't stupid, you aren't, and you don't know why you're having such a hard time understanding this shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You've been staring at the papers in front of you for about an hour and a half, and you're starting to get pissed. 

No, scratch that, you've been pissed for about an hour now, but you're finally starting to lose your patience. Because you aren't stupid, you aren't, and you don't know  _why_ you're having such a hard time understanding this shit. 

The teacher keeps assigning you these essays, and they're all interpretation, and you  _want_ to say something but you  _can't_ because even when they say they won't, they'll treat you different because of it. You didn't get into an AP Class because of your good looks, you got in because you were smart, but you can't do this. It's always been such a small part, and now all of a sudden your grade is riding on it and you're terrified of it because you can't get it. No matter how hard you try, you can't. 

You've been stealing answers from your classmates, not cheating, not actually copying their answers, but getting them to explain it to you. When they say it, it sounds so obvious you don't know why it's so elusive for you, it makes you almost grateful that you don't emote right. You're not even sure what expression you would be making, self loathing? Who knows. You don't even care right now. 

You're stimming like fucking crazy, rocking side to side long and hard enough that you're bumping against the wall from your chair. You're listening to [ music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwSqOOK0_7M), and you can't tell if it's doing more harm than good, your brain isn't focusing anyway, you guess it can't be making that much of a difference. 

Your door opens, "Hey Dirk, I... woah man, are you okay?" Dave has a slow way of speaking, you can't place what it is about it that makes it sound rushed though, but it always does. It registers to you finally, that you're humming too, you probably look like a mess, you feel like a fucking mess. 

You don't understand what the fuck weasels have to do with living your life. 

"Do you need to take a break?" Dave asks hesitantly, and you nod, then you can't stop nodding. He doesn't say anything about that. He just gets closer to you, then he glances over the essay you're supposed to be interpreting and he grimaces, "Aw, man, what in the fresh hell kind of shit is this woman spouting?" he asks. 

"I don't understand it." you tell him, and he nods empathetically. 

"I don't think anyone can decipher this bullshit, what's with her hard on for these fucking weasels?" he shakes his head, "This is just downright pathetic, I can't believe your teacher is making you spend the weekend trying to answer questions about this bullshit. C'mon man, let's blow this Popsicle stand." 

You rise and follow him out of the room gratefully, you both head into the living room and you see Bro sprawled out on the couch. He glances at you once, and then shifts so that there's actually room on the couch for you and Dave to sit. 

"English?" he asks, and you nod. He jerks his head in understanding, "the Bitch." he says, and that ends the conversation. Bro doesn't talk a lot. Neither do you. Dave holds conversations long enough for the both of you, it works. 

Bro is watching a movie, it's pretty noisy, but he doesn't have the volume loud and you're not feeling particularly overstimulated, just frustrated as fuck, and so it's okay. He passes along Li'l Cal to you, and you hold him in your lap thankfully. Dave eyes the puppet suspiciously out of the corner of his eyes, and you've never understood why he hates Cal so much, Li'l Cal is the shit. 

So you put off the homework, and then you end up not doing the homework and you honestly can't bring yourself to give a shit. 

-

Of course you give a shit once you get to school. Your teacher looks at your paper and her mouth twists at the corner, and you're not really sure what that twist means, but you know it's nothing good since it went down. Just like the shit that's about to go down. 

She manages to win the 'biggest bitch in the universe' award when she calls you into groups. "I want you to really talk about what this is about." she tells you all, "some of your answers are very shallow, and I think you can do better than that." You're not looking at her, but you'd bet cash she's looking at you. 

You sit awkwardly on the floor in your group, and you have to sit through everyone in your group talking about this paper and actually sounding like they know what they're talking about. You get worked up enough that you start to rock absently, the girl next to you looks at you weird, you can't remember her name for the life of you, but she doesn't say anything, just talks about the intent of the author while you scrawl down what she says. 

The teacher gives you another look when you hand in your paper that's covered with sloppy notes that you used to try and make up for your shortcomings. You stare at her cheek and you know that your expression is as stony as ever, she looks away. 

"Parent teacher night is tonight." she chirps finally, "I'm hoping to see your parent there Dirk."

"I don't have a parent." you reply, you think she makes a face, you don't know, you're not looking at her, but you see her shoulder's jump up. "I just have my Bro." You thought that teachers were supposed to know that shit, but you manage to stop yourself before you say that. 

"Well then, I hope to see  _him_  there." she says, and her shoulders jump as she speaks. You just shrug at her and turn back to go back to your seat. 


	2. ==>Bro: lose it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this escalated farther than i intended, there's no going back now.  
> there's going to be like one more chapter or some shit.

Your name is BRO STRIDER and you really don't want to be here. 

For all your talk, you really don't like to be around people, they're just straight up fucking annoying and you hate dealing with them. It's gross. You wouldn't have come at all, you totally could have booked a gig tonight and then you would get to spend the night mixing up sick beats for some people in a club, but Dirk has been having a crazy hard time in his english class and Dave is practically incapable of gathering information about his own classes. 

So here you are, packed into a crummy high school with a bunch of other adults sniveling at teachers about how great their kids are and you really can't hold back a smirk at how ridiculous it all is. 

You walk into Dirk's English class and narrow your eyes in confusion behind your shades because there are art projects all over the walls and what in the fresh fuck does that have to do with English? You think that you can vaguely recall Dirk making his project, and another glance around confirms your suspicions, his is in the corner, covered in smuppet felt. You can't see much farther than that, you're going to have to get closer. 

You're on your way when you get intercepted by a woman with blonde hair and a sneering smile. "You must be Dirks' guardian." she says at you, and you raise an eyebrow. 

"That would be me." you tell her, sticking out a hand, "Bro Strider, at your service." 

She looks at your gloves and doesn't take your hand, you let it fall back to your side, your eyebrow crawls further up your forehead. 

"Dirk has been having some  _trouble_ in my class." You hate the tone of voice that she uses for trouble, it grates against your nerves and you wonder how Dirk spends an hour with this woman without losing his shit. "I don't think he's putting in the proper amount of time and effort that the assignments require." 

You scoff at her, and watch her expression falter. "Are you shitting me?" you ask, and a mother next to you glares, "Dirk spends hours trying to do your work." 

"Perhaps he's distracted." she counters, and she has a smug face, like there's no way you could possibly rebut this argument, but damn is she wrong. You shake your head at her, and lean down a little, she's like a fucking foot shorter than you are jesus christ. 

"Nah, Dirk doesn't get distracted when he does your work, little man gets fucking distressed. But, tell me, what the heck makes you think that  _Dirk's_ the one not putting in enough effort?" 

"Perhaps then, he needs to study more. None of the other students have any trouble giving me proper answers for these questions, but Dirk's are always significantly under par." she quips. 

"Yeah, well none of the other students are autistic, so maybe you need to mix up your variables a little." you snap, your lip curling in disgust.  _This_ finally gets through to her, and she loses the smug expression for something more shocked. "Don't assume that everyone's on the same level, Dirk doesn't get metaphors, and that's all these papers are. How about you change up your assignments a little and check yourself before you wreck yourself, asshole." 

You leave before you go any farther, nothing's cool about losing your shit at a teacher in front of a bunch of PTA moms. 

You don't make it to any of Dave's classes though, you end up just driving all the way home, silently seething on your little brother's behalf. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny baby chapters because i don't have the attention span for this.


	3. Chapter 3

Bro looks pissed when he gets back, you can tell that he's trying to hide it, so you don't say anything. That doesn't stop you from noticing though. 

"Bro, did you make it to my math class?" Dave calls over from the next room, poking his head around the doorframe.

"Sorry little man, I didn't make it very far, I had all of these PTA moms swarming all over me, begging for a piece of me in their little clubs." You have to admire Bro's ability to just spit things like that out, but that also just makes you wonder what the heck happened with him and the english teacher to put him in a mood like this. Dave seems to pick up on it as well, nodding and ducking back into his room. 

You stay where you are, perched on the couch, listening to the TV, and rocking back and forth slowly. This isn't a quick, urgent stim, this is just you chilling. Of course, Bro's appearance made your hands start to twitch, but you're still not in a bad spot. 

You really want to ask Bro about what happened, but you can see the tension lining his frame and he keeps running his hands over Li'l Cal's shirt, feeling out the texture, so you resolve to just find out tomorrow at school. It isn't like your teacher is one to hold back. 

-

You go to English curious and immediately wish that maybe you hadn't come at all. 

The first thing you notice is the way she's looking at you, this isn't her usual sneer, you don't know what this expression is, you're pretty sure you've never seen Bro or Dave wearing it. 

"Dirk can I speak with you for a moment?" she calls as you walk in, and you stiffen. She doesn't say anything else, but you can tell that she's not going to back off, and if you tell her that she can't speak with you for a moment, then she's going to get upset because that's what people do. It's irritating to you when people ask questions that aren't actually questions at all. 

So you walk over hesitantly, and she leans in all close to you, and you take a step back. Too close. Especially since it's her, her perfume hurts your nose. 

"Your brother told me about the difficulties you've been having." she whispers, but she whispers so fucking loud that she really might as well just have spoken in her usual voice. You wonder what in the shit Bro was thinking. "I wanted to let you know that you can come to me with anything, if you need to. I have a nephew with autism, so I know a lot about the disorder. I'm always willing to help out." 

You want to flip her desk over. Your skin is too tight on your body and everything has snapped into the wrong position. You're angry, not enough that it shows on your face or makes you do anything, but it's still there, simmering inside of you. The entire back row of students is staring at you, and you want to run out. You feel your hands start to jerk at your side and you force them to still despite how it makes you feel. 

Who the fuck does she think she is? She's got a  _nephew_ with autism? And that makes her an expert? And why is she all of a sudden so willing to help, she definitely wasn't two days ago. The expression on her face finally clicks for you, she's looking at you with pity. 

You nod, but you also feel the corner of your mouth pull up in a silent snarl. You move over to your seat with sharp stiff movements because you don't really want to sit at all. The chair feels wrong, digging into all of the wrong places, the jeans that you're wearing felt fine when you put them on this morning but now they feel like they're rubbing you in all of the wrong ways, your skin feels dirty and you just want to claw it off. 

You spend the entire class period shifting around in your seat, trying to find a position where you aren't uncomfortable, but you never find it. You don't let yourself stim. That would be embarrassing. Which is funny, seeing as how it's never bothered you before. But this woman has managed to press all of the wrong buttons with only a few sentences. 

You practically sprint out of the room when the bell rings, you're the first person out of the classroom. The warmth of the sun helps a little, but you still feel everything too loud and too much and you're thinking about just skipping next period to hide in the library when you hear someone call your name behind you.

The voice sounds familiar, but it's no one that you know, you turn around anyway, just to see. 

He's got dark hair that's a wild mess on the top of his head, his glasses are a little askew, and the green shirt he's wearing is horribly stained and rumpled. "Dirk!" he exclaims again, looking pleased that you turned around. You tilt your head in a silent question, you're not sure you're up for talking yet. "I don't know if I've ever managed to introduce myself, I'm Jake English! Pleased to meet you!" he doesn't offer you a handshake. 

You dip your head in greeting, and then raise an eyebrow. You can feel your hair brushing against the back of your neck and someone bumps into you as they walk past. "I overheard the teacher speaking earlier, I hope you don't mind, I promise I wasn't eavesdropping!" Jake continues, "And I just wanted to introduce myself because I've never met another autistic person my age!" 

You were about to get angry, and then you actually hear what he's saying, "Another?" you ask, and your voice sounds okay, maybe a little shaky. Jake doesn't seem to notice, he's too busy nodding his head enthusiastically and talking excitedly about his grandmother and recent move and you wonder what you missed that he's already that far into conversation. 

You can feel yourself settling, you start to tap your fingers together and Jake hardly notices, handflapping with wild abandon, apparently completely oblivious to the looks people passing by are giving him. 

You feel the corner of your mouth lifting and you think that maybe it wasn't all bad after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this was way longer than I was intending. Jake just sort of jumped in there.   
> I might end up making a followup fic for this now, huh.   
> [My Tumblr](http://www.striders-g0nna-stride.tumblr.com)  
> Drop by, please, drop me some autistic headcanons, literally any homestuck character. I want to write more of these fics, give me some ideas.

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a vent fic. I'm sick and fucking tired of all of these metaphorical based essays im getting in AP english. I can't understand them worth shit and i feel like a fuckin idiot. idk.  
> this isn't really about dirk at all this is just me complaining i'll be honest with you.  
> [Tumblr](http://www.princex-n.tumblr.com/)


End file.
